The moon wasn’t full but the autumn sky was lit with stars. Frost was already in the air and she was glad of her jacket as they tore down the path towards the trees.

‘What’s so special about a tree in the dark?’ shouted Netta as he guided her into the darkness towards a gnarled old specimen with a broken stump.

‘Trust me, this is purely in the line of science. I want to share the secret of my success with you,’ Drew yelled back as he leapt on to the broken branch like John Wayne astride a saddle.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ Netta peered among its branches as he climbed further.

‘Just fishing…’ His voice faded with the effort to root inside the hollows of an old oak’s trunk. She could see dimly that he was embracing it with a hug and wondered if it was safe to be out with this madman. ‘There, got it! Come and see my liquid gold.’

He sat swinging his legs on the branch, waving a whisky bottle that glistened in the moonlight and shimmered temptingly. ‘Water of life, I dream of thee, slaver at the thought of your warm kisses. How I miss thee!’

‘I thought you were supposed to be off the juice?’ Netta crossed her arms, disappointed, shaking her head.

‘Oh, I’m dryer than a nun’s arse, pardon my French, but the sight of this sort of tops up the old resolve. My test piece, stashed away to prove I can live without my little comforter. See, it’s still sealed, untouched by human hand, I promise. I just thought you’d like to see what a good boy I’ve become. A black sheep needs something to ease the pain, believe me, to hide uncertainties behind a show of strength. Soldiers want false hope and bravado, not dour Scots honesty, when they go over the top into battle. It’s expected of officers but when we crack up, boy, do we know how to paint the town! It took three Redcaps to tear me off that jerk who said our Tommies were lily-livered. On my way to a discreet discharge until some kind soul recognised that we all have limits to our endurance. So here I am, the Wreck of the Hesperus, proving I can kick the urge once and for all.’

‘Your family must be relieved.’

‘My family know nothing of this little escapade nor must they. They’re missionaries in South Africa running a clinic, dear pious souls. They think I’m on some training course and there’s no one waiting at the station to clasp me to their bosom. After all that battle grub and mud, I’ve earned a few weeks in this gilded slammer, all mod cons and first-class cuisine, don’t you think?’